Forgiveness
by Love Out Of Lust
Summary: One Shot - Ste and Brendan are now a couple following Ste and Doug's breakup. An exploration of how they got together again.


He is warm beside him, his soft brown hair tickling Brendan's shoulder. It used to be golden, his hair, and longer, not shaved at the sides like it is now.

"Why did you change it?" Brendan had once asked him, in the dead of the night, as their bodies lay together, their torsos sticky with sweat, cum leaving a trail on Ste's belly. Brendan could have got him a tissue to clean it up, but his legs felt like they wouldn't work for a good half hour. Besides, he liked seeing the fruits of his labour all over him, a mark that claimed him as his.

"I don't know," Ste had mumbled, his breathing coming out in shallow gasps. "I guess I wanted to change…"

Why? You're perfect. Brendan had to bite his tongue from saying these words out loud.

"…to grow up…forget about everything that went before…" Brendan's grip on him had tensed ever so slightly, because he knew what he was referring to. Stephen had wanted to forget about him, what he had done to him.

Ste's arm had snaked around Brendan's own then, and he had stroked his fingers back and forth along the flesh there. Amazing, how just the barest touch could calm him, where once it would have made him feel trapped, disgusted, repulsed for wanting what he wanted. It was unnerving, how Ste could read his mind, know what was needed to make him stop thinking about the past. Make him remember where they were right now.

"Don't you like it?" Ste had asked, looking up at Brendan from where he lay tucked underneath his arm, smiling.

Brendan pulled him up towards him, and nuzzled his face against the sides of his hair, enjoying the sensation that it created. Then he brought him into a kiss, their tongues finding each other instantaneously, like they'd been doing this for years. And in a way, he guessed they had, because he couldn't remember a time when Stephen wasn't in his life. And he couldn't imagine a time when he wouldn't be. Brendan couldn't think about that. He just couldn't.

When they came up for air, Ste's smile looked like it was about to split his face. Brendan felt his own mouth twitch against his better nature, under the effort of trying not to turn this into something sentimental. Although he had a feeling he might be entirely too late for that.

"You're smiling."

There is a figure in front of Brendan, their face blurred in his sleepy haze. He can make out long lashes, a pointed nose, pouty lips. He forces himself to focus, because it's him, and he is not something that is worth missing.

"What?"

"You were smiling, Bren."

Shit. I have become one of those mawkish schmucks who gets pleasure out of daydreams of their…other half. Partner. Boyfriend. Whatever pointless word Stephen wants to refer to me as, and I let him, because somewhere along the way, I stopped wanting to protest.

"I was not smiling." He shifts in the bed, so that Ste's hair no longer tickles against his shoulder. Can't have the lad getting all cocky, thinking that he's had this affect. That it's all down to him. Even if it is.

"What were you thinking about?"

"Stephen, it's 4.30 in the morning. We've both got work tomorrow. Get some sleep, yeah?"

Ste rolls his eyes at him, tutting. Brendan would never tell him, but he loves this side of him. Sulky. Challenging. He feels his cock stir in response.

"It's your fault. You woke me up, anyway." Ste crosses his arms.

"Oh yeah? How do you work that one out?" He's a champion wriggler, this one. It's a wonder Brendan gets any sleep at all, really.

"You hog all the covers. I'm cold." He rubs his bare chest.

"Where's your t-shirt?"

"You wouldn't let me put one on, remember?"

"Mmmm…." Brendan says, recalling how he'd wanted to feel Ste's skin next to his, not fabric.

He follows the spattering of goose bumps on Ste's chest with his eyes. He's still the same little skinny git that he was when they first met, except he's more toned now. Ribs have transformed into the barest hint of muscle. They're more of a match for each other now, more…equal.

"I bet I have a way of warming you up." It's a cheesy line, but sometimes it's good to quit messing around. Be direct. And it works on him, every time. A blush rises on his cheeks, which makes Brendan want to laugh, because who is he to be shy, after the things they've done?

"Thought you said we needed to sleep?" Ste asks, nibbling on his bottom lip, eyes glazing over already. Somehow sleep always goes out of the window when it comes to him. How am I meant to close my eyes, Brendan thinks, when the sight of him, the sound of him, the feel of him next to me makes me want to have him, right here, right now? He knew moving in with him would be bad for his physical health.

"Come here."

"Not really in the mood, me…" He faces away resolutely.

"Stephen, I said come here."

The fucking tease just stays rooted to the spot. He knows Brendan hates begging. He sounds like some nagging fishwife right now, and Brendan's his…

"I'll let you do that thing that you like," he says, admitting defeat. He's not going to waste time, not when they both know that there is only one place this is headed.

"Yeah?" Ste's voice has raised an octave higher, just like that.

"Yeah."

Ste shuffles closer to him on the bed, and plants a kiss on his shoulder. Then looks at Brendan through blue eyes that can change from defiant to horny in an instant.

Brendan runs his hands over the plains of Ste's body. He's stopped shaving his stomach hair off following Brendan's protests, and it now lies over his belly button. He shivers as Brendan touches it, and he doesn't know whether it's from the cold, or because after all this time, it still feels like a spark is igniting. Ste straddles Brendan's lap, and pushes him up against the wall beside the bed forcefully, placing both hands, palms forward, either side of his head. Spit mixes with spit in their desperate struggle for their lips to remain connected.

They know each others tastes so well now that it's like coming home. Ste had been worried at first. Had been full of questions about the men that had occupied Brendan's bed while they had been apart. Even more worried about who had occupied his heart. But Brendan had stared at him, silently. So silently that Ste had willed him to do anything - laugh, cry, shout, scream. Until he had slowly walked towards him, and clasped Ste's face in his hands. Traced his bottom lip with his thumb.

"Why would I ever want anyone else when I have you?"

Ste had felt like the breath had been knocked out of him. Brendan Brady didn't talk like this. He wasn't one for romance or flowers. Ste had never wanted that anyway. He'd learned the hard way that it's what you do that counts, not what you say. Or don't say. But hearing those words...after all that time. After watching him kiss another man in Chez Chez, the same place where they met, where Brendan first touched him, kissed him...his reassurance felt like putting a plaster over a wound. He could already feel himself beginning to heal.

But he still had to be sure.

"But there must have been other guys..."

"Shhhh. Stephen, they don't matter."

"Were there a lot, though?"

He hadn't been able to let it go. The thought of Brendan with other men...it made him feel sick with jealousy. It was the clawing, despairing kind of jealousy that made him want to lock Brendan away and never let anyone else even look at him. Ridiculous, but ever present, and impossible to ignore.

"You really want to know?"

"Yes."

Brendan had sighed, pulling Ste towards him by his hips.

"There were a few. I don't even remember their names."

Ste knew he should feel disgusted, perhaps. That Brendan couldn't even recall the names of the men he had been with. But he felt a strange sense of relief.

"Were they good?"

He hated himself for asking the question that had been at the forefront of his mind. He felt like he was laying his feelings out for Brendan to see. Nowhere to hide.

"They were good fucks, yeah."

Ste felt his stomach drop. He shouldn't have asked.

"That's it, Stephen. That's all they were. I wasn't thinking of who I was really with...they weren't the ones I..." he stuttered over his words. "They weren't the ones I wanted."

He had looked down at Ste nervously.

"What about...you and Doug?"

Ste jolted in Brendan's arms. He hadn't thought that would be a topic they would ever discuss. It was one of the conditions of their new...agreement, as Brendan liked to call it. Or relationship, as Ste preferred.

Doug was off limits. Ste had been with him for seven months before they had split up. They still worked together, which seemed fine by Doug, at least after the initial awkward period. But Brendan...Brendan wasn't so fine with it.

"What about us? I thought we said we weren't - "

"I know, I know. We're not going to mention him. But -"

"But you're sticking to that plan terribly."

"You asked me about guys...so..."

Ste had to concede that it wasn't entirely fair. But Brendan hadn't been in a relationship with any of those people. And thank God for that, Ste thought. Because he couldn't have taken it if he had.

"Alright, but this is the last time I'm talking about it, okay?"

Brendan had nodded, looking like he was bracing himself for what was to come.

"Doug was...he meant something to me. He was a friend, you know...we had a laugh. He made me happy."

Brendan's face seemed to twist in pain with every word. His hands loosened around Ste's waist, and his skin had grown pale.

"Wait - listen. If I was in love with Doug, do you think I'd be here now? Yeah, I did love him, in my own way. But...you." Ste softened. "You are...everything. Don't you get that, you idiot? Look. I know this soppy stuff isn't really you. But I have to tell you. You're all I've ever wanted. I have always loved you. I will always love you."

"But after what I did..."

It was Ste's turn to quieten him now. He drew his face up to his and kissed his lips.

"What you did was something I did. That doesn't mean it was right, but...you've changed."

Brendan wondered. Can a person ever really change? Is it possible, or do they always keep that part of them hidden inside, waiting to be unleashed? When he found out about what Terry had done to Ste, it had been a game changer. The idea that Ste had grown up being defenceless against someone who should have been looking out for him...Brendan knew what that felt like. He'd killed a man to protect Ste, and yet he couldn't protect him from himself. He would have laughed at the poetic irony, but it wasn't really funny. It was the opposite, in fact. It made him want to die. Coupled with being told about Ste and Doug...he'd felt the most precious thing in his life slipping away. It wasn't like before, where he'd always been able to claw Ste back. He had realised with alarming clarity that it was now or never. All or nothing. He could either continue to hate himself and watch as Ste played happy families, loathing his guts and becoming a complete stranger to him. Or he could stop fighting against him, against himself, and fight for him. Properly this time.

It had taken time. Months spent trying to work out what he had to do, how he had to act to prove himself. Until he had realised that he was trying too hard. Cheryl had said it, when she had caught him watching Ste and Doug from the balcony of the club, as they worked in Carter & Hay.

"It's not rocket science, Bren."

He hadn't realised he had company. He'd turned round to her, mortified at being caught out.

"I was just -"

"Enjoying the view? Yes, that's what it looked like."

She had smirked at him knowingly.

"Leave it, Chez."

"If I don't say it, then no one else will. You're a fool."

"Gee, thanks."

"You know what I mean. You love that boy. Don't think I don't realise that. How everyone in the village doesn't know is beyond me."

"He's with Douglas now. Running their little gay deli."

"You don't sound bitter at all."

He'd tried to go back into the club, but Cheryl had held his arm in place.

"Look. Ste deserves some happiness. And Doug seems to be good for him."

"So?"

"So...so they're the right love, aren't they? Good, healthy. Blah blah blah. All very black and white, isn't it?"

"What are you saying?"

"I'm saying...you deserve to be happy too. And sometimes the right love isn't always real love."

And she had walked away, like she wanted her words to stay ringing in his ears. Well, it did the fucking trick. He couldn't get it out of his head all day. The right love isn't always real love.

Sentimental bullshit. The kind of line that would be in some bloody rom com. And yet...

Real love, hardly anyone experiences it. To love somebody, to really love somebody, you'd do anything for them. Whether they wanted you or not, whether they were in your life or not.

He'd said it himself, hadn't he? And imagined only one face when he'd said it.

He knew he had to try. That he'd regret it for the rest of his life if he didn't. Not ever seeing Ste smile again in his presence, like he was special, like he was worth something. Not ever feeling how soft his lips were against his, the perfect fit. Never being inside him again, so deep he felt like it was physically impossible to go any deeper. Never just talking to him again, carefree, joking, Ste waffling on in that adorable manner of his.

Brendan could already see his future mapped out for him if he didn't act. He'd continue picking up men. They'd give him satisfaction. For a minute. Then he'd get rid of them, because their sheer existence was a reminder that they weren't Stephen. He'd run Chez Chez until he got tired of it, and then move again. Maybe somewhere abroad. It wasn't like his kids wanted him, not anymore. Cheryl had Lynsey. Perhaps he'd find someone new. Younger than himself, of course. Brown hair. Skinny. Skin like velvet. If he was lucky. Or cursed. He wasn't sure which.

Time would pass, and he'd grow older. Grey. Stephen would be on the other side of the world, with Douglas or someone else. Brendan knew he wouldn't be short of admirers. He'd already had to get rid of Muscle Mary, and he had no doubt there would be others waiting in the wings. Stephen always was irresistible, the cheeky fuck.

He was exhausted with pushing him away. It was easier, in so many ways. Never to try, never to make things right. It was what he was used to. If people started having expectations, started wanting things from you...it was better to make them expect nothing. To make them think you were nothing. At least that way they couldn't be disappointed. And they'd never be the one to leave you.

But Brendan was sick of missing him. He woke up expecting to find him there beside him. He had no idea why, as Stephen had hardly ever stayed the night.

Maybe that was the problem. He hadn't stayed enough.

It started with trips to Carter & Hay. Brendan shuddered at the though of stepping in there, being infected with the sight of Doug and Ste all over each other, Doug's hands bundled in Ste's apron, like they were some cloying, cutesy married couple. He wanted to shove Douglas's face head first into the pizza. Or worse, truthfully.

Instead, he'd settled for grunting a quick hello, and ordering some pasta.

"You on your own?" Ste had asked, barely raising his eyes to look into his.

Doug had eyed them warily over the counter. Brendan had thought - or hoped - that Joel telling Ste about their little business deal would spell the end for them. Annoyingly, they were still very much together. Brendan wished Ste's forgiveness could be used for a better cause.

"Yeah. Table for one. Be a good boy and put extra sauce on the pasta, won't ya?"

Ste raised his eyebrows, and moved into the kitchen.

Brendan had waited, drumming the cutlery on the table impatiently. He sneaked glances at Doug as he did so. He was serving some other customers. Brendan had toyed with him in the past. Given him the full treatment, standing as close as possible, transfixed at times by his lips. It had all been a joke really, though. Doug was straight, besotted with his magical Bex, or Rebecca, or Jenny, or whoever the hell she was.

Except it turned out he was also besotted with a certain Mancunian. One who belonged to Brendan. And the second he'd found out, suddenly he didn't feel like toying with him, or playing anymore. He became competition.

"Here you go."

Ste had slammed the bowel down on the table's surface, making the knife and fork rattle.

"Jeez Stephen, give me a heart attack."

"Sorry." He looked anything but.

"We've got customers booked in half an hour, so..."

"So get the hell out? Honestly, where's your hospitality?"

"Just hurry up and stop messing about, Brendan."

With that he had turned away and gone straight back behind the counter, pretending to be busy cleaning the surfaces.

Brendan had to hand it to the boy. He knew how to make a decent meal. It was fucking fantastic, the pasta hot and seasoned just right. The béchamel sauce was thick, and he couldn't resist deliberately getting it all over his mouth, having to lap it up with his tongue as Ste tried desperately not to watch, but was unable to look away. Brendan had to hold back a chuckle, because despite the lads protests, he was still so easy. Putty in his hands, really.

It continued like that for weeks. Brendan would spend three days a week there, ordering every dish until he'd exhausted them all. Doug would be silent in his presence, but he couldn't exactly complain or order him away. He wasn't doing anything. Not yet.

Ste held onto his anger for as long as possible, it seemed. Wore it like a shield. But the ice began to thaw, bit by bit. Just little things at first. He'd no longer slam the food down, for one. And he'd smile as Brendan jiggled his legs up and down when he was particularly ravenous.

"You're dead fidgety, you."

"Can't help it if you make the best food in Hollyoaks, can I Stephen?"

And his eyes would sparkle. His ears would grow faintly pink, in a way that made Brendan want to drag him into the nearest empty space and nibble them to his hearts content. Among other things.

But he knew that even making that attempt would ruin everything. Ste would reject him, and it would just push him closer to Doug, by confirming his worst fears. That Brendan was only after one thing, that it was all about a quick fuck followed by a punch.

But the lack of progress still frustrated him. Yes, he and Ste were on better terms now. But he had a horrible vision of Doug one day, in the not so distant future, presenting Ste with some kind of hideous diamond engagement ring, and adopting their own kids. Ste would want to call them some terrible names no doubt - Tiffany for a girl he was betting, and Joey for a boy, like that Joey Essex guy that he heard Ste going on about. Insufferable.

But he didn't know what would move them forward.

Until his father came.

Brendan and Ste had been unofficial 'friends' by this time for five months. Ste would talk to him when Doug was out running errands. He'd lean against Brendan's table, his stripy apron on, and a hint of a smile would play around his mouth. He'd ask him how Chez Chez was doing ever since Joel was given the boot. Brendan would scoff.

"Like it even makes a difference. Scottish Foxy's only contribution was giving shit music to the world."

And almost destroying everything. But they didn't mention that.

It was the first time Brendan had seen his Dad in a long time. He'd done his best to avoid it. Those memories, the past...it wasn't something he wanted to remember.

But he hadn't had a choice. Cheryl welcomed him with open arms like they were in some sort of family reunited nightmare. He was as good as gold around her. The bastard always was able to pull the wool over her eyes.

He was ill, apparently. Brendan believed it about as much as he believed he'd tripped Stephen up and made him kiss him accidentally. He reckoned he just needed a place to stay and had run out of cash. He was ready to see him sleep on the streets, but Cheryl wouldn't hear of it. She made up the room which was now going spare from Joel moving out. Plumped the fucking cushions and everything.

And he wouldn't leave him alone. Followed him everywhere, like some kind of bad smell. It was like he was assessing every part of his life, down to the last detail. The people he spoke to, the way he ran the club, the places he visited. Which meant the end of his evenings with Ste.

One morning when Brendan was coming out of College Coffee, he'd stepped out and seen Ste pacing the pavement, looking like he was rehearsing some sort of speech. He'd watched him for a few seconds, bemused. He liked nervous Stephen. He was beginning to think he liked every sort of Stephen, actually. As long as it was the Stephen that liked him.

"You got ants in your pants?" he'd asked, smiling.

Ste had stopped, looking shocked.

"Err...sorry. I mean...I was just waiting for you."

Like I'm waiting for you.

"Oh yeah?" Brendan stepped closer. "Why's that?"

Now that he had moved forward, he could see the sheen of sweat on Ste's forehead.

"I uh...well..."

Brendan wanted to tell the boy to get on with it, because it was making him nervous now.

And then it all came out in a rush.

"Where have you been?"

Brendan stopped in his tracks.

"What?"

Ste suddenly appeared very fixated on the tarmac, looking down at it through long lashes.

"You haven't been to the deli in ages..."

It had been two weeks.

Two weeks that had been spent away from him, because he knew that if his Dad found out about Stephen...they'd both be dead.

And he would find out. Brendan wasn't unaware of they way he looked at him. He tried to make his face a mask, but every time Ste was in his vicinity, it wasn't something he could control. He felt like his true feelings were etched upon every line of his face.

"I've been busy, Stephen."

He wanted to wince at the sound of his own voice, harsh, cold.

Ste felt it too, he could tell. He was close to ruining the progress that he'd worked so hard to make.

"Oh. Right."

He was dreaming the disappointment, wasn't he? The hurt? He shouldn't want him to feel that, but he couldn't help but be hopeful at the idea. That Stephen cared...because he felt like something was missing ever since they'd been apart.

"Well...I better go. Doug's waiting, so..."

Douglas. Waiting for someone who wasn't his, who didn't belong to him. Brendan wanted to find the little American and snap him in two.

Except he couldn't, because Stephen would never forgive him. And he was trying not to be like that anymore...violent. Lashing out. Even when defending what was his.

"Wait."

Ste turned, quickly. Almost like he'd been waiting to be called back.

"It's my Dad. He's come back."

He'd only talked about his father to Ste once. A time that he didn't like to look back on, when they were outside a police station. It had all come tumbling out, the force of it shocking them both. Ste had understood, more than he'd let on at the time. Had felt like his own life was being reflected back to him. Brendan had felt exposed, like a wounded animal, as if his carcass was being attacked, inch by inch. But he'd needed to say it in the moment, to try to tell Ste that he wasn't a monster. That he'd had to take the power back. It had been the only way.

He wasn't entirely sure why he was telling him this now.

"Your Dad?" Ste's face became crinkled with anxiety. "What's he doing here?"

"He's got cancer. So he says."

"What - you don't believe him?"

"I wish I did, trust me. Nothing would make me happier than the idea of the old bastard dying."

He expected Ste to tell him off, to warn him that he should be careful what he wished for. That he was being cruel, vile.

But he surprised him. He just stared.

"What?" Brendan probed, when he couldn't take any more.

"Have you told him you don't want him here?"

Brendan was taken aback by the question. The forthright way in which Stephen asked it.

"Cheryl wants him here."

"Cheryl loves you."

Jesus, Mary and Joseph. Just hearing the word love from Stephen's lips made Brendan's pulse quicken. He inwardly ridiculed himself for being so pathetic.

"She's not going to take his side over yours, is she?" Ste continued. "Not if you tell her what you once told me."

So he did remember, then. Brendan supposed it wasn't the sort of thing a person was likely to forget, but still. Somehow the thought that Stephen recalled a conversation they'd had two years ago made him feel like whatever had happened, whatever existed between Stephen and Douglas...it wasn't all over for him. For them. Not yet.

"She doesn't see the same side that I do. She only sees his good."

"Well, maybe she's right."

"What?" He felt lost now. Was Stephen defending his Dad?

"People can have more than one side, you know. It's just about choosing which one to let the world see...and which one to hide."

He looked up at Brendan shyly.

"That's very...Spiderman of you, Stephen. What are you going to tell me next? With great power comes great responsibility?"

Stephen grinned. "That too." The smile vanished. "What I mean is...none of us are perfect. Least of all me. I don't know if anyone's all good, or all bad. But maybe...if good does exist...the good ones are the people who change. Who spend every day of their lives if necessary...fighting the bad away."

"What if it's too hard? Fighting all the time."

"Then you become like your Dad. And you never grow up at all."

He thinks it's that simple, Brendan thought. He did it, he escaped Terry...he was strong. Brave. More than I ever realised. I never escaped anything, Not really.

He was out to the village. Cheryl knew, Lynsey knew. His own son knew.

But his Dad...

Brendan wasn't sure what he was more afraid of. His Dad finding out who he was, what he was. Or what would happen to Stephen if he knew. Part of him thought he could deal with the humiliation, the way his father would look at him. As long as Stephen was safe, he could deal with anything.

That's why he found himself inviting Stephen round to his flat one evening. Cheryl had taken their dad out for a meal. He had warned her in hushed whispers about the invitation, telling her to keep him away for as long as possible. To contact him immediately if they had to return early.

She had smiled at Brendan, knowingly. At least she thought she knew. She had no clue, really. Didn't know that some things don't have happy endings.

"Have a good night, Bren."

He had paced the flat after she left, looking at the clock every five minutes. He had half an hour to spare, and debated whether to change from his suit into something different, more casual. But then he decided against it. He needed to look formal. business like, distant. It was the only way he could do this. He steeled himself with a glass of whiskey while he was waiting, memories clouding his head. Offering the same drink to Stephen on their first night alone together there, enjoying watching the boy get drunk, lose his inhibitions. It seemed like something from a different life now.

And yet he could still remember every detail, from the way Stephen had stuck his tongue out, wiggling it around when imitating Brendan and Jacqui kissing, something they'd never done, something Brendan had never wanted to do. The way Stephen had begun to talk about sex, about never feeling up for it, and that night he had been. How Brendan had wanted to take advantage of that fact, but had known that he had to go slow, so as not to make the lad think this had been in his head all along. He couldn't have him thinking he was some sort of a queer.

He had no idea that a year later, he'd be admitting that exact thing.

He heard the familiar sound of Stephen knocking then, shaking him from his thoughts. He could tell he'd made an effort. Stephen's style had already advanced considerably from the tracksuits and hoodies of old, but he looked like he'd gone one step further tonight. His hair had some product in it, just the right amount, and he was wearing a tightly fitting polo shirt, a leather jacket over it. He took the jacket off when he got in, exposing his tanned, toned limbs. Brendan wished he could cover him in a dustbin bag to make this easier, but he had no doubt that he'd still look beautiful somehow, even then.

"Alright?" Ste had asked, smiling openly at him. Yet Brendan noticed that his eyes were rimmed with red. He knew he shouldn't care, but he couldn't help but ask.

"You been crying, Stephen?"

Ste blushed. "No, course not. It's just the pollen."

"It's winter."

"Well it can still get to you..."

Brendan crossed his arms. "What happened?"

It all came out in a blur of words then, all falling into each other.

"Me and Doug. We split up. It just wasn't working, you know? And it's for the best, it really is. He's angry, says he's going to find a new job, but he'll come round...he just needs some time to cool off, you know? He'll be okay. We'll still be friends, we -"

"Stephen." Brendan put his hands on his shoulders, but then thought better of it. Body contact really wasn't a good idea right now. Or ever again.

"Why did you come here?"

Ste's brow creased. "Cause you asked me to..."

"You've just split up with Douglas. Go home. Get some rest, yeah?"

"Don't you want to know why I split up with him?"

Brendan sighed. He didn't want to hear about some petty argument they'd had which would probably be fixed in a week. He imagined them rowing over an order of olives, Stephen storming off, Douglas calling after him in vain. Fascinating.

"Humour me."

Ste moved closer to him. Dangerously close. So close that Brendan had to step back, because it looked like he was going to...

"I want to be with you."

Words that he'd been waiting to hear, words that he'd only heard in his dreams...the most perfect fucking words he'd heard in a long, long time.

But it was too late.

"Stop."

"No. Listen to me. I know we've both made a lot of mistakes. I didn't believe you about the murders...it was easier not to. To believe you were some sort of monster, so I could stop loving you. And I know that we can't forget the past...what you did to me. But you've changed."

"No, I haven't."

"Yes, you have." Ste wrapped his hands around Brendan's face, smoothing his fingers over his cheeks. Brendan tried to pull himself away, but Ste's grip was firm. When had he become so strong? So fearless?

"Stephen, I lied to you. I went behind your back about the business."

"Yeah, because you were trying to do what was best for me."

"No. Never, ever believe that me screwing with your life is me doing what's best. You deserve more than me, don't you get that? You deserve more than punches and bruises. You deserve someone who loves you the way you'll love them."

Ste's grip on him tightened, as if he felt like he was slipping through his fingers.

"If you haven't changed...if you don't want to change, then why have you been going for counselling?"

Brendan felt like he had stopped breathing for a moment.

"Cheryl told me."

Cheryl...

"She...how did..."

"It was a few weeks ago. She told me that you'd been going ever since...ever since you found out about Terry."

"She had no right to tell you that."

"Don't you get what this means? You're getting help. And when I'm around you...you're different. I can tell."

Brendan uncurled Ste's hands from his face.

"We can't be together, Stephen. My father...he's never going to be okay with this. Cheryl wants him here. She believes he's ill, and she's asked him to move in permanently. Don't you get it? I can't be with you while he exists."

"Because you're ashamed of me?"

"No." Brendan swallowed. He couldn't do it anymore. Remain aloof, like the boy standing in front of him wasn't the most important thing in his life.

"Because I love you."

Tears began to sparkle in Ste's eyes. He hastily tried to rub them away.

"Then why can't we be together?"

"Because he will kill you if he finds out. You think that's some sort of idle threat? Stephen, I know what he's like. How he thinks. I can't let him...I can't let him hurt you."

Stephen shook his head, looking him defiantly in the eyes. He looked angry. More angry than Brendan had seen him in a long time. It made Brendan uncomfortable, set him on edge. He hadn't thought that Stephen would be compliant over this, but he hoped that they'd settle it somehow, that Stephen could go home to Douglas. It felt like he was drowning when he thought about it, but it was the only choice left.

Brendan made a movement towards the door, intending to open it and for Ste to leave, for the last time. But Ste stepped forward, blocking his path.

"I want you to leave." Brendan said, his voice a whisper, as if rejecting the words he was saying.

"Yeah? Well tough."

Ste moved forward before Brendan had time to react, and crushed his lips up against his own. Brendan tried to resist, tried to pull away, but knew it was hopeless. Brendan's mouth immediately opened in order to give Ste better access, and their tongues played with each other, relishing the taste that they'd both gone so long without.

"Fuck," Ste panted in the rare moments when they broke away for air.

Brendan tried to hold himself together, tried not to lose control. But it was hard not to, when he'd been deprived of this for a year. A whole year spent without him, without his body and his lips and that smooth skin and those eyelashes. His warmth. Stephen always seemed impossibly warm. Wonderfully warm.

Kissing wasn't enough. Brendan steered Ste's body to the stairs, where they landed with a soft 'oomph.' His hands were on Ste's belt buckle within seconds, and his trousers landed on a heap on the floor. Ste unzipped Brendan's suit trousers, and started trying to undo the buttons on his shirt. Brendan stopped him.

"There's no time."

Ste understood. Brendan wanted to be inside him as quickly as possible.

Brendan plunged his hand into Ste's boxers, giving his cock a few hard strokes. Ste's head rolled back, and he pulled Brendan further towards him, encouraging his hand closer. Brendan relished the noises coming out of Ste's mouth. He'd missed hearing how vocal he could be. Time was when he'd wanted him to be quieter, when he'd told him to shut up, that anyone could walk past and hear. Now he wished he'd be louder. And he intended to do everything he could to make him be.

That's when Brendan's phoned buzzed from where his trousers lay discarded.

"Leave it," Ste said when he saw Brendan reaching towards it, his voice hoarse with desire.

"It might be Cheryl...she's out with my Dad."

Brendan wanted nothing more than to forget about it and carry on from where they'd left off, but if his dad came home and caught him with Stephen...

The text confirmed his worst fears. They were fifteen minutes away from the village.

"You have to go." He looked over at Ste lying sprawled on the stairs, a very obvious erection poking out from his boxers. His skin was flushed.

"What?"

"My dad's coming back."

"Good."

Brendan stared at him in shock. "Good?" He thought he must have misheard.

"It's the perfect chance for you to tell him. About you and me."

Was he insane? Had he not just listened to what he had said? How he would be hurt, put in hospital, worse?

"I have to protect you, Stephen."

"Protect yourself, you mean. Come on Brendan, I'm not some kid. I'm not Declan. You're not telling your dad about us because then you don't have to face it. You don't have to be in a relationship and deal with everything that comes with that."

Brendan shook his head. "Just..."

"Just what?"

He really wasn't a kid, Brendan realised. He was a man now. The boyish fringe had gone. The wide eyed stare had vanished. He was assured, confident. Suddenly Brendan was the one who felt small. Fragile.

"Just let me let you go."

"No."

Brendan looked at the clock. "You have to go."

"I'm not going anywhere."

Brendan looked at him in shock. Did Stephen really trust him that much, to take that kind of stand against him, with no fear of the consequences?

"What if I make you go?"

There was no trace of fear on Ste's face.

"I don't think you will. I don't think you'll ever hit me again."

Brendan smiled. It didn't touch his eyes.

"You think after a few counselling sessions that I'm cured? That it's been switched off, just like that?"

"No. But I think you've decided to change. And that's what makes the difference."

So there they were again. That same place that the'd been so many times. Not together, but not entirely apart. Brendan had fooled himself that it had been Ste's choice. His decision to break up with Doug, his decision over whether he could forgive him. But now he realised that it had been him all along. It had all rested on his ability to change.

He could have hit him. Punched Ste until he was black and blue, until he had no choice but to leave. They would become strangers again. Brendan might even go back to prison, if Ste reported him this time. He could continue living the safer life, the life of the expected, the predicable. He felt like being alone was his forte now.

Or he could realise that he was scared. Really, truly fucking scared. Of the unknown, of being in a relationship with a man. Of actually allowing himself to be happy, a feeling which was so alien to him. Of what other people thought of him. Of messing it all up, of gaining something and then losing it. Of being left. Abandoned by Ste, like he'd been abandoned so many times before.

He could realise all that, and do something about it. Make sure it didn't control him anymore. Actually learn to live again, instead of feeling like the walking dead, eating and breathing and talking, but not really alive.

He had thought to himself in that moment as Ste faced him, and the clock was ticking, counting down his father's arrival. Stephen fucking Hay. The person who has turned my life upside down, inside out. The person who I never expected to love, never even entertained the idea even for a moment when all this began. But he snuck up on me. Disarmed me with the way he was. Who he was. And it's been impossible to go back ever since.

Brendan didn't believe in soul mates, or fate. He regarded it as bullshit, make believe, along the lines of fairytales.

All he knew was that there was no one else he wanted to be with. He wasn't sure when that had happened, when the idea of being with Stephen was something he craved more than meaningless encounters with nameless men. But he had to accept that it wasn't something that was going to go away.

The last time they'd been together like this, they'd been caught by Eileen. Brendan had seen what they must have looked like reflected through her face. Two men, both who had kids, one of them who was married. Sitting on the floor, propped up against the sofa, clothes littering the carpet, having been unable to make it to the bed. Sweat making their bodies gleam, sitting as close as possible beside one another. Their hands cupping each others faces as they pulled each other in for another kiss. For round two.

This time when it happened, they weren't caught. Cheryl came in through the door first, her face revealing her shock when she saw Ste still there, both men fully dressed by now, any signs of their passion having faded. She gave Brendan a warning glance, but he just nodded at her. Tried to pretend he was more brave than he felt.

Brendan's father emerged next. His eyes drifted from Ste to Brendan. He'd never seen them together, although he'd spotted Ste in the village. Known that he owned Carter & Hay with some other little queer. He'd known from the first moment that he'd seen Ste that he was gay. He'd muttered it under his breath. Fucking fag.

Brendan saw the accusation in his father's eyes as he looked between them. Any connection between him and Ste would be abhorrent to him, whether he knew they were together or not. Either way he'd be faced with a barricade of questions.

What is he doing here? Why are you talking to him?

You like a bit of that do you? Visits from fags?

Brendan looked at Ste. He wondered how he could even begin to explain to his father what had happened between them, what he felt for him. How to begin telling a story, when he wasn't even entirely sure how it had started.

Then he realised. Anyone can say words. It's the easiest thing in the world to lie. To say something that you don't mean, that you won't follow through on. To say words that will crumble into ash tomorrow.

There had to be something more this time.

Slowly, he extended his arm. Held out his hand. Anchored it towards Ste's. Looked across at him, like he was his lifeline. The glue holding him together.

Ste stared at him in shock. It lasted less than a second. Because when the person you love has done the thing you've always wanted them to do, you don't stick around, do you? You don't waste time. You want your life with them to begin right now.

They grasped hands. Linked fingers through fingers. Felt the familiar warmth that they got from each other. Brendan's hands, which had been shaking before, no longer shook in Ste's firm hold.

And that was it.

Well, not entirely. There was shouting. Swearing. Brendan's father made to move towards Ste, until Brendan blocked his path, and Cheryl tried to reason with him, panic dripping from her voice. Brendan's father told him that he couldn't live under his roof while this was happening. Brendan scoffed, reminded him that he'd never asked him to move in with them.

Then Cheryl had had to choose.

Brendan or her father. Her dad warned her that if she allowed this to continue, if she didn't see how sick it was, then he'd leave. He'd sleep out on the streets, and his death would be on her hands.

As Brendan looked at his sister, he was reminded of what Stephen had said about there being two sides to people. How Cheryl had seen a different side of their father. The good one. He hoped she realised now that it was just an illusion. A child's dream that would never come true. That some people just don't change, and you have to leave them by the wayside, otherwise they destroy you too.

She asked him to leave in the end. Told him he had to sort things out at home, that he still had a family waiting for him. That she would visit him in hospital, but that he couldn't live with them.

Brendan watched him walking away, not doubting that this would be the last time he'd ever see him. Then turned to Ste, who looked at him hesitantly.

"Wow."

"Yeah."

"That was..."

"Stupid. Reckless. Idiotic."

"Brave."

Brendan looked at him. He'd never been called brave before.

"I've never seen something so brave in my life."

Ste moved closer towards him and kissed him, lifting up his shirt at the same time. He stroked the skin there.

Brendan could have had him then and there. Their interruption on the stairs was fresh in his mind. He planned to never let anyone interrupt them ever again.

He pulled away though, remembering that Cheryl was still upstairs.

Ste's mouth was red from the friction of Brendan's moustache rubbing against him.

"Not now. Chez will be upset. Come round later tonight, yeah?"

He stroked a finger down Ste's jawline, unable to resist.

Ste smiled, biting on his lip.

"Does this mean we're together now, then?"

"Stephen." Brendan rolled his eyes. "Don't push your luck."

"Come on. Admit it."

"You're impossible."

"You love it," Ste said, his eyes sparkling.

Yes. I do.

"Fine." Brendan sighed. "We're together."

"You're my boyfriend."

"I never said that."

"Are you going to see other people, then?"

Brendan frowned. Did he honestly think that he wanted anyone else?

"No. Of course not."

"Am I?"

"I'd fucking hope not."

Ste grinned. "Then you're my boyfriend."

Brendan glared at him.

Ste ran his hands over the tache, feeling the bristles glide through his fingers.

"You don't have to say it or anything. I just like teasing you. You could just...you know...say yes. Or no," he said quickly. "Either one."

Strange, how the idea no longer scared him so much. It still created a sinking feeling inside his stomach, thinking about being someones...about being part of a couple. With a man. It was everything he'd spent years running from. Fighting against. Every instinct he had told him to put Stephen in his place. Remind him that two men couldn't be that to each other. That there were boundaries, rules. Lines that couldn't be crossed.

But then he thought about how happy the boy in his arms made him. How he made him laugh, at the smallest things. How he made him want to be better. How proud of him he was, watching him raise two kids at his age, saving every spare bit of money for them. How he had the best sex of his life with him. How he wasn't perfect, not to everyone else. But somehow, he was perfect to him.

"Yes."

"What?" Ste suddenly looked vulnerable again.

"Yes. To your question."

A smile broke out on Ste's face that reminded Brendan of sunshine. Christ, sunshine? What was he thinking? He'd have to keep a check on any similar thoughts. He was becoming way too soft in his advancing years.

For now, he settled with giving Ste a kiss, a reminder of what would await him later that evening. They separated reluctantly, Brendan keeping the door open for as long as possible to watch him run down the steps eagerly, like an excitable schoolboy. He'd tell Amy what had happened. She wouldn't be happy about it, but she'd come round, in time. They'd hide it for a few weeks from the rest of the world, of course. For once it was Brendan who would want to go out together, be seen together. But Ste insisted that he had to clear the air with Doug. He had to make sure that everything was okay, that they could still work together, before they went public.

But after that...after that it the beginning. The beginning of them, the beginning of how they would be from then on. Nothing would be simple, both of them knew that. They'd argue, Ste would sulk. Brendan would beat the filing cabinet on numerous occasions. But they were done with wasting time, with lying to themselves, to each other. This was it for them.

So here they are. In the same bed, in the same flat. Their own flat, which they've shared for a year now. They took it slow at first, staying over at each others places for two years, before Brendan waved a set of keys in front of him one day.

"How about it? Want to make me one of those fry ups of yours every morning?"

It certainly helped being on their own together at times like these. No Cheryl on the other side of the wall. No Leah and Lucas crying at night, with Amy, Brendan and Ste taking it in turns to comfort them. No one to suppress their moans for.

Ste crawled down Brendan's body, until he reached his groin. He muffled his lips in the dark hair that lay there. Brendan was impatient tonight, and pushed Ste's head further down, a silent request for him to take him into his mouth.

Very little could beat this. The feel of Ste's lips around him, the pressure, the warmth, the wetness. Brendan couldn't help but thrust deeper into his mouth. Ste was used to it now though, knew Brendan's reactions perfectly. He merely opened his mouth further so he wouldn't gag. Heard Brendan sigh and felt his fingers run through his hair.

Ste was desperate to be inside him. He remembered the first time Brendan had let him be the one on top. It was five months into them being together properly. Ste had asked. He'd topped before with other men. Noah. Doug. But never with Brendan. He'd never been sure if he'd be allowed to. And it suited him just fine. He relished the feeling of Brendan pounding into him, of being the one in control, the one driving it.

But he was curious. Wanted to know what it felt like with this particular man. The most important man. Brendan had been reluctant at first. More than reluctant. He'd told Ste there was no way in hell. That he hadn't been a bottom since the time when he'd fucked a man for the first time.

Unfortunately, Brendan forgot just how persuasive Ste could be. After a lot of cajoling and reassuring kisses, he'd agreed. It hadn't become a regular occurrence, and Ste had never expected it to be. But once in a while, when Brendan was feeling...in the mood...he'd let him. Like tonight.

Ste dropped Brendan's cock from his mouth. Brendan grunted from the loss, his eyes fluttering open. Ste wriggled up to face him, and held out his fingers. Brendan opened his mouth, allowing his spit to soak them. He watched Ste through dark eyes, making sure that his fingers were as wet as possible.

Once he was ready, Ste put one finger inside of him. Brendan twisted in initial discomfort, but encouraged Ste to put the second one in. Ste smiled as he watched Brendan close his eyes in pleasure. When he couldn't wait any longer, he lined himself up. They didn't need a condom anymore. Had stopped within a year of their relationship after they got the all clear. What was the point? It was only ever going to be them.

Ste moved slowly at first. He had to make sure that Brendan still felt like he was in control. He didn't want to make him regret his decision to let him do this.

"Stephen...Stephen..."

"What?" Ste stopped.

"Don't fucking stop!"

"Sorry! I was confused, me. What are you saying my name for?" It wasn't like Brendan to be vocal during sex. There were times when he couldn't help it, but he'd always check himself after, bite down on Ste's shoulder to silence the expletives coming from his mouth.

"Faster."

"What?"

"Go faster."

"Oh, right..."

Ste moved inside of him quicker, wondering if he'd been wrong. If maybe Brendan wanted him to take control.

The bed began to shake from their movements.

"Think we've got to get a new bed, Bren. This one's well squeaky. It sounds like it's going to break."

"Well at least it will have broken for a good cause."

Ste grinned, moving faster. Brendan let out a grunt, and moved towards Ste's shoulder, clearly going to bite down to suppress his groans. Ste moved away.

"No. Don't. Let it out."

"You like that, do you?"

"Yes."

Brendan frowned, but made no attempt to move towards his shoulder again. Ste secured Brendan's legs around him, making sure that the sweat which covered them didn't make them slip off. He thrust into him, the intensity so hard it was almost painful.

"Fuck...fuuccccck...fuck Stephen."

It was hard to distinguish who was louder out of the two.

When Ste felt like he was close, he wrapped his hands around Brendan's cock. They came together, sweat mixing with sweat, cum mixing with cum, their bodies shuddering from the impact. From the ecstasy.

Afterwards, they lay beside one another, panting in the darkness, Brendan idly stroking the dark fuzzy hair that covered Ste's legs.

Ste's laughter filled the room suddenly. It was the laugh Brendan loved most of all. Low pitched. Dirty.

"What?" Brendan asked, amused.

Ste continued laughing.

"What? Share the joke."

"It's just.."Ste said in between giggles, "It keeps getting better, doesn't it?"

Brendan's hand stilled on Ste's legs.

Ste looked down at it. "Ere, don't stop stroking, you."

Brendan tutted, but resumed his movements.

"What do you mean, keeps getting better?"

Ste looked into his eyes seriously. "You and me. What we just did. And...everything. Us. It keeps getting better. Doesn't it?"

Brendan looked at him. Three years and counting.

And he laughed with him. Because he was right. It kept on getting better.


End file.
